


Winter Rain

by garbage_dono



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: Setting the date during the Pegasus Moon was Ferdinand’s idea. Of course it was. The man had such grand dreams of a wedding set against a picturesque backdrop of winter – fluffy snow. icicles glimmering on the trees, a carriage ride along the white cobblestone paths leading to the Imperial Palace. All this despite the fact that it hardly ever snowed in Enbarr.Instead, it rained.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring (mentioned), Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary (Mentioned), Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 9
Kudos: 186





	Winter Rain

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the Ferdibert Valentine's Day Flashbang! <3
> 
> Art by @hibikivoid here!!! https://twitter.com/hibikivoid/status/1228696240814247936?s=20

Setting the date during the Pegasus Moon was Ferdinand’s idea. Of course it was. The man had such grand dreams of a wedding set against a picturesque backdrop of winter – fluffy snow. icicles glimmering on the trees, a carriage ride along the white cobblestone paths leading to the Imperial Palace. All this despite the fact that it hardly ever snowed in Enbarr.

Instead, it rained. And Ferdinand was beside himself.

“I have heard that rain on one’s wedding day is meant to symbolize good luck,” Hubert offered with a smirk, voice barely loud enough to reach Ferdinand’s ears over the processional music and the sound of rain pouring against windows and high, arching roof above their heads.

Ferdinand pouted – _pouted,_ right there at the altar – and huffed, “Good luck or no, it is hardly the romantic setting I was hoping for.”

Ah, romance. Something for which Hubert cared little. As happy as he was to finally be standing here at the altar with this ridiculous man he’d somehow fallen in love with (The irony of the formality was not lost on him. After all they’d been through, here they were swearing vows at an altar to nothing but the storm bellowing outside.), he was more than a little relieved to finally be free from all the conversations about _place settings_ and _tablecloths_ and _seating arrangements._ All things that Ferdinand, bless him, could care for in spades.

Smiling as he reached for Ferdinand’s hand, Hubert chuckled. “Would you prefer to call the whole thing off and wait until a lucky winter blizzard hits the city?”

“Of course not.”

“Hm. I’m glad to hear it. That would be quite the pain, wouldn’t it? Considering all the effort we’ve already gone through making ourselves presentable for the occasion.”

He didn’t think he could take another second of Dorothea fretting over the fastenings of his wedding robes. Even now, he could feel her eyes boring into him from behind, no doubt muttering to herself and anyone who would listen about how his cloak was still likely crooked. It had been all she’d talked about until Lady Edelgard herself had pulled her away and let him make his escape.

And now here they were, at an altar in the middle of a vicious storm, preparing to take their vows. Crooked cloak or no. Hell below, Hubert was almost nervous.

Ferdinand cried from the moment he opened his mouth to take his vows, and Hubert could still taste the salty tang of his tears when they leaned in for the kiss. By fury, he could hardly even remember _saying_ his own vows. He must have, and he surely did it passably or _someone_ (Dorothea) would have interjected to demand he take another crack at it.

Thunder rolled overhead as they strode arm in arm down the aisle, all eyes on them, something _hot_ and _full_ pulsing in Hubert’s chest as he looked down and watched Ferdinand’s thumb stroking across his arm.

Somehow, by some _miracle,_ they made it. Through the ceremony. Through their first introduction as husbands – _husbands!_ Through dinner, their first dance, and the _ridiculous_ charade of Ferdinand tossing a bouquet that Bernadetta had so helpfully provided for the occasion.

(Caspar practically knocked down half the wedding guests to snatch it out of the air before waving it in Linhardt’s face like a battle flag. And Linhardt barely bothered to suppress a smile, looking equal parts tiredly resigned to this sort of thing and endlessly amused.)

The night marched on. Wine flowed. Music played. Dorothea squealed with glee as Petra dipped her so far back that her shoe almost went flying, and Caspar twirled Linhardt under his arm with a rose from the bouquet clutched in his teeth. Ferdinand offered his hand to Bernadetta, who softly, graciously, _surprisingly_ accepted despite looking like she might faint at the very idea.

At some point in the night, Hubert found himself on the dance floor with a new partner himself – Her Majesty the Emperor beamed up at him from between his arms, cheeks flushed and a lock of hair just barely daring to start to free itself from the clutches of her clip.

“You look so _happy,_ ” she insisted.

He rose a brow. “Do I?”

“Yes, you do. And don’t you dare bother trying to hide it. It’s your wedding day, Hubert. I’d expect nothing less than pure, unadulterated bliss.”

Bliss, hm? He wondered what that was meant to feel like. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely familiar. But the feeling of Ferdinand’s hand slipping against the small of his back at a lull in the music, well…it came close.

“May I, Your Majesty?” Ferdinand asked with a bow, and Edelgard laughed as she stepped back.

“Far be it from me to keep you from your _husband,_ Prime Mister. Please.”

Husband…what an odd term.

“Is it?” Ferdinand chuckled as his hand found Hubert’s hip.

Ah, he hadn’t realized he’d said as much out loud.

“I never saw myself being anyone’s husband,” Hubert said, intentionally this time. “Let alone yours.”

“Have I earned myself a lifetime of such barbs now?”

“Clearly.” Hubert could feel himself smiling despite never giving his lips the order. “Surely you’d prefer that to me complimenting you. What torture would it be, to be chained to a hissing snake singing an endless list of arias in your ear.”

The smirk on Ferdinand’s face was perceptible only for a moment before he leaned in, pressing their chests flush together and bringing his lips to Hubert’s ear: “I rather like it when you sing for me.”

Damn him, Hubert thought, as his cheeks blazed red. But not to be outdone, Hubert tucked his nose against the crook of Ferdinand’s neck and dropped a kiss there, feeling warmth bloom across the exposed skin peeking out from under his collar. “Later, I think, love.”

“Y-yes. Later. Of course.”

As the song came to an end, Ferdinand drew back, curling his fingers around Hubert’s wrist and leaning down to press his soft lips against Hubert’s knuckles. “It is truly a privilege,” he said, “Having the chance to dance with you tonight.”

Hubert smirked. “Please, Ferdie. We’re married. There’s no need to continue trying to woo me.”

“On the contrary, I find it endlessly tempting to consider wooing you every day from now until our last.”

Look at him, fool that he was, blushing madly like a maiden in love while Ferdinand waxed poetic as if he was still reciting his vows from earlier that day.

The rain had stopped by the time Hubert stepped out on the terrace. A blessing if ever there was one. It had left in its wake a bracing breeze that made him clutch his cloak tighter around his shoulders, but he didn’t mind it. On the contrary, he found it quite the relief from the warmth inside the reception hall. And the quiet – ah, the quiet – it was a perfect respite to close his eyes and breath it in while the music and laughter from inside filtered lazily out.

Leaning on the railing, Hubert let his eyes follow the line of bare trees surrounding the pond just a couple hundred feet or so before him. In the spring, the royal gardens were a sight to behold – full of too many colors and scents to count, criss-crossed by the low-hanging branches of willow trees and smelling like flowers and fresh grass and ripening fruit. Now all he smelled was petrichor, but he quite liked it, as much as he did the silhouette of the branches against the moonlight reflected on the water. It was peaceful, simple. The type of thing that helped draw his thoughts together with perfect clarity.

How many winters and springs would he and Ferdinand see together, he wondered? The question itself made his stomach flip. First snows and summer storms. New years and birthdays. Pleasure and pain. The ceremony had changed little, in the grand scheme, and yet it had changed everything at the same time.

Flames take him, he felt himself getting _sentimental_ now.

Behind him, the door opened. “Here you are,” came a familiar voice, and Hubert glanced over his shoulder just as his husband leaned on the railing beside him. “I thought you may seek a reprieve from the festivities.”

“Come to drag me back?”

“On the contrary, I’ve come to seek the same reprieve myself.” He let out a sigh, still smiling. “Don’t get me wrong – Dorothea wanted to come out here and insist you return, but I told her I would see to it.”

Hubert grinned. “Ferdinand von Aegir? Lying so easily? My, my – you never cease to surprise me. Perhaps I'm rubbing off on you yet.”

“It was hardly a lie – I do intend to drag you back inside for at least one more dance. Later, though…” He extended an arm. “For now I thought we could take a stroll around the garden, now that the rain has stopped.”

Blinking, Hubert glanced down at Ferdinand’s elbow. “A stroll around the garden? You do realize there will be little to look at besides frostbitten trees and dead flowers, don’t you?”

“Even such things have their beauty,” Ferdinand insisted, his arm staying where it was. “Besides, I do not need colorful flowers or impressive foliage to distract me when my husband is there to hold my attention.”

 _Husband._ It sounded so odd even when Hubert thought it to himself. But hearing Ferdinand _say_ it, so easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world…it made Hubert waver on his feet for a moment.

He took Ferdinand’s arm in the next breath. “So you plan on staring at me the whole time, do you?” he asked as they descended the steps.

“Would that be so bad?” He leaned in, fiddling with Hubert’s collar, just enough to draw his attention. “I'm sure you're happy to be out of them, but you know, those wedding robes were quite fetching on you."

“I thought I looked a bit ridiculous.”

“Never.”

“Next to you, I mean,” he said with a smirk. “A gallant storybook hero marrying a shadowy villain.”

“That _villain_ is my husband,” Ferdinand insisted, pausing to curl his fingers around the back of Hubert’s neck. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Hubert’s smile crept ever further across his face. “As if you would ever let me.”

"So Minister von Vestra," Ferdinand said, arm tightening around Hubert’s elbow until their sides were nearly flush together, "Care to head down to the water? It may be the dead of winter, but I find the view quite agreeable."

His eyes were fixed on Hubert's face as he spoke, barely even looking at the muddy path as they made their way down toward the pond. That alone was enough to bring a flush to his cheeks, like a flustered adolescent nursing a crush. "Funny," he said. "I could say the same. But charming as you may be, do keep your eyes on the path, darling." He reached up to nudge Ferdinand's face forward with one gloved finger. "You'll do us no favors if you find yourself distracted and walk into the lake."

"Is it my fault I find you distracting?" Ferdinand countered with a pout.

"Hardly."

When they made it to the water's edge, Hubert stopped short of getting his boots wet at the shore and watched clouds roll in over the horizon. More rain was sure to come before too long. Not the worst thing. On the contrary, he quite liked the rain. The sound and smell of it were intoxicating to him, and there was something satisfying about watching a winter storm roll in wash away the dust and grime of days past.

Oddly fitting, he thought, that standing here with Ferdinand's chin resting on his shoulder, Hubert felt like he'd been washed clean. A temporary high, he was sure. Something as simple and trivial as marriage could hardly erase all of his sins. And yet for now, he was content to revel in the feeling of being reborn.

Or, if not reborn, loved in spite of the scars he carried. How…foreign a feeling it was.

Smiling as he chided himself for all these ridiculous thoughts, Hubert turned in Ferdinand's arms to face him. "Affectionate, aren't we Ferdie?"

"Should I not be?" Ferdinand countered, not backing down one step. "I'm happy, Hubert. In fact, I doubt a happier man exists anywhere in the world at this moment."

"Oh?" Hubert raised a brow.

"Aren't you?"

"Aren't I what?"

"Happy."

Smirking, Hubert said, "Well, I'll admit I feel a bit of trepidation at the thought that I'll be plucking your hair from the sink for the rest of my life." Ferdinand opened his mouth to say something more, his brow pinched, but Hubert pressed his palm against Ferdinand's jaw and let his thumb trace along his cheekbone and silence him. " _But,_ even despite that, I…yes, Ferdie, I'll admit I'm quite content."

"Content, hm?"

"If you're waiting for me to wax poetic about all the things I feel for you, you'll surely be disappointed."

"I doubt that," Ferdinand insisted. "Your vows during the ceremony were beautiful, Hubert. 'Disappointed' was hardly a word I'd use to describe how they made me feel."

"Are you sure you managed to hear any of them, busy as you were sobbing into your sleeve?"

Ferdinand snorted out a laugh. "I had a handkerchief ready, you brute."

"A brute now, am I?"

"Yes," Ferdinand told him, hands settling on Hubert's hips and holding him there. "A brute. Better than a villain, though, don't you agree?"

"I suppose."

Ferdinand was close, tantalizingly so, and Hubert huffed and gave into the urge to press their lips together again. It was better than the kiss they had shared during the ceremony by almost a hundred times – partially thanks to there being no salty tears eking their way past Hubert’s lips this time, but mostly because they were alone. Secluded from the festivities by a wall of bare trees, with only the clouds overhead watching them.

He much preferred it, kissing Ferdinand without a gaggle of onlookers cheering and crying and whistling with glee. It was the quiet moments that Hubert treasured more than anything, in nearly every aspect of his life. And sharing them with Ferdinand was…intoxicating.

So intoxicating that he barely noticed how overcast the sky had grown until a frigid drop of rain hit him square on the bridge of his nose.

He pulled away with a breath, both of them looking up just in time to watch the heavens open, and the next thing Hubert knew Ferdinand was gripping his arm and all but dragging him back toward the reception hall, cursing and lamenting the water soaking into his clothes the whole way. By the time they made it under the cover of a nearby gazebo their boots were caked with mud, their clothes soaked down to their skin, and all it took was one look at Ferdinand’s _hair_ for Hubert to burst into a sharp peal of laughter.

“Dear me,” he snorted, “You look less like a gallant hero now and more like a wet dog.”

Ferdinand groaned as he fruitlessly tried to wring out the corner of his cape. “I had no idea we were due for more rain.”

“I did tell you rain on a wedding day is meant to bring good luck."

Ferdinand glanced at him, pausing with his hands still squeezing the fabric at his waist, and as a bead of water rolled down his nose and dropped at his feet, his face broke into a wide grin. He pressed a hand over his mouth, a laugh dragging its way out of him with an undignified snort. “Good luck,” he chuckled, resting his free hand on Hubert’s shoulder. “If this is _good_ luck I would hate to see what _bad_ luck brings.”

They stood there, leaning on one another, dripping and shivering and _laughing_ until they were red in the face and their dignity was all but gone. And finally Hubert sank down onto the bench and tugged Ferdinand down with him. They sat with their thighs pressed tightly together, watching the rain pound against the trees and mud beyond the safety of the roof overhead.

“Should we wait it out, do you think?” Ferdinand asked. “Or perhaps try and make a run for it?”

“Hm…considering how freely the wine has been flowing tonight, I think we have at least a few more minutes before anyone realizes we’re gone and comes looking.”

“You don’t think they’ll miss us at our own wedding reception?”

“If anyone notices I’m certain they’ll think we snuck off to get up to something _scandalous._ ” He chuckled. “That would be quite the entertaining rumor, wouldn’t it? The newly wed Prime Minister and Minister of the Imperial Household absconding from their own wedding to-“

“ _Hubert,_ honestly.”

“Blushing, Ferdie? So easily?” Hubert shot him a wicked smirk, leaning in until their noses brushed. “Rumors or no, if we’ll be stuck here until the rain lets up, we may as well pick up where we left off, hm?”

There were no complaints from Ferdinand as he leaned in to cup Hubert’s jaw in one – still damp – palm, kissing him as the rain poured down around them with a deafening roar.

* * *

The storm was a short-lived one, and Hubert was equal parts grateful and disappointed. Grateful because they were both shivering like wet cats by the time they made it back to the reception hall, and disappointed because he could have sat there kissing Ferdinand in the midst of that downpour for _hours._

Look at him, yearning for that man’s touch like a lovestruck adolescent. He had only been a married man for a matter of hours and yet it was already transforming him down to his very soul.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to mind.

Any hope of sneaking back into the festivities unnoticed were dashed by Dorothea, who rushed up to them while they were still dripping on the tile. “ _There_ you are!” she huffed, face flushed from a combination of wine and frustration. Mostly the former, it seemed. “Where have you two been? You’re the guests of honor, you know. Did you really think nobody would notice?”

“As the guests of honor, I would think we could come and go as we pleased,” Hubert said with an easy grin. One that was tempered by his entire body shaking like a leaf.

But Ferdinand was already hanging his head. “My apologies, Dorothea,” he sighed. “It was only supposed to be a short walk down to the lake, but the rain…well…you can probably tell it caught us off-guard.”

“It’s the middle of the Pegasus Moon – you’ll _freeze,_ both of you.” She turned, hand closing around Caspar’s arm. “Caspar – can you go find some towels for these two lovebirds?”

“Uh…” Caspar glanced to his left, where Linhardt was practically asleep on his feet, draped against Caspar’s shoulder with a flush high on his cheeks. “I kinda got my hands full with this lightweight here.”

Linhardt said something that sounded like “I’m not a lightweight,” but the words were so lost in Caspar’s shoulder that they did nothing but prove Caspar’s point.

“Fine, fine, I’ll find them myself,” she sighed. “Go on, get Lin to bed before he passes out in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Waayyyy ahead of you!” Caspar sang, already swaying his way toward the door.

Seemed they’d missed more of the festivities than they’d thought, Hubert mused. Although he couldn’t find it in him to complain. 

“Here-“ Dorothea pressed the corner of a cloth napkin against Hubert’s cheek, frowning like a disapproving mother as she wiped off a layer of water and then thrust the napkin into his hands. “Help dry off your husband. I’ll try and find a towel somewhere.”

“Dorothea, there’s really no need to-“

“You too, Ferdie.” She pressed another napkin into his waiting hands, a smile spreading across her face a moment later. “It’s kind of funny, actually. I never thought you two, of all people, would be the kind to sneak off like that.” She giggled. “I hope the rain didn’t kill the mood.”

She was gone a second later, leaving Ferdinand with his mouth hanging open and a pink flush high on his cheeks. Chuckling, Hubert ran the napkin over Ferdinand’s temple, futile an effort as it was. “She does have a point – I would hate to spend our honeymoon in bed with pneumonia.”

“It would be a tragedy,” Ferdinand said, smiling as he reached over to return the favor, brushing Hubert’s wet bangs back out of his face. “We may have vowed to stay true to one another through sickness and health, but I would rather not put that to the test too quickly.”

Hubert hummed, sopping wet napkins clutched in his hand and hair hair clinging stubbornly to his skin, and he leaned in to press a kiss to Ferdinand's lips instead of saying anything more. "In sickness and in health indeed," he said with a smirk as he pulled away, leaving Ferdinand's eyes wide and cheeks pink. "I do hope for more of the latter, but if it means more days with you, I think I'll take whatever I can get."

"That is...rather a sweet sentiment for you," Ferdinand said, looking bemused.

"Certainly not something to get used to, but if there were ever a time to allow myself a bit of sentimentality, it would be now, don't you think?" He chuckled. "You should feel lucky, Ferdie. You've witnessed a snake singing an aria and now you've coaxed that same serpent into whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Quite the rare sight." 

Ferdinand's expression twisted in a way that Hubert couldn't quite figure out for just a moment or two, his lips pressed into a thin line and his brow pinching. And a second later, Ferdinand dissolved into a barely concealed laugh that caught in his throat and made him sound like he was choking. "A singing snake," he giggled. "Right now you look a bit more like a half-drowned cat." 

"Eager for divorce, are you?"

Instead of answering, Ferdinand pulled him close, ignoring their sopping wet clothes and their equally disheveled hair and kissing him long and deep. And for a moment - just one short, sweet, self-indulgent moment - Hubert allowed himself to melt. Like Ferdinand was the heat defrosting the chill in his bones. 

He cared little for romance, true, but this...this he could indulge in a bit longer.


End file.
